My Voice Of Desire
by The one they call 'Kitkat
Summary: First in the my voice series. In a world where your soulmate is the only one that you ever belong to, Harleen Quinzel is shocked and terrified to learn that the murderer The Joker is her soulmate but is it that bad? As Harleen delves into therapy sessions with the joker, she realises that he may, indeed, be the one for her...
1. Chapter 1

**My Voice of Desire**

 **A Harley Quinn Tale- Chapter One**

I was twenty years old when I first heard the voice of the man that I was destined to fall head-over-heels in love- my soulmate.

Actually, it wasn't his voice but instead his laugh. A booming laugh with traces of metal and fire burnt together to make some kind of metal flame. The most masculine of laughs there could ever be. The kind of laugh one would have if they had just discovered that the world was at their mercy. The kind of laugh that would make a girl like me doubt that they could ever be wrong. When I first heard that brilliant laugh, I instantly knew that I would follow that man to the end of the world and back up again. To shorten in down, the first time I even heard him I was totally doomed.

At first, other than being love-struck, I was hit by a tidal wave of imaginable terror as if someone had thrown cold water over me in my sleep. It wasn't even the kind of terror one feels when they realise that a stranger has just invaded their mind. The emotions behind that laugh were all too clear and I couldn't breathe- the pain, the sadness and the twisted joy. Whoever this man was, he had been reborn in some kind of way. At the tender age of twenty, I couldn't understand it and at the time it felt like I never would.

The only thing I remember of that night other than the laugh- obviously- was the aftermath. In my deranged mind, I was convinced that if I fell into sleep than I would never hear him again. I'd waited so long- too long- and I wasn't about to let him go just because my mind was tired. That night I must have stayed up all night was hot chocolate and red rimmed eyes filled with a twisted joy.

I was right when I had said that I had waited a long time. When everyone heard there voice at puberty, I was all alone. My mind was occupied by only me and no one else so when all of my friends giggled and gossiped about their voices I would lie and make up a persona. Pretending to be in love is the hardest thing that I think I ever had to do. The conversations that my friends seemed to have so much meaning and young love in them that I found it hard not to rip out their friends. Six very long years were spent with my wondering if there was something wrong with me- did I even have a soulmate? Then, I heard him.

Even now, I still wonder why I took me so long to hear him. Maybe I wasn't prepared for the chaos he was sure to bring or maybe he wasn't ready for purity that I was sure to bring. We were two very different people and I'm sure that if I heard him when I was younger, I would have avoided him at all costs. The thought of having those deep and powerful conversations nearly killed me. Instead of those conversations, all I heard was laughing- the same laugh that had shocked me to my core. Even now, I could barely breathe when I heard it. Sometimes, if I was really lucky, I would hear low murmurings so quiet that I could scarcely make out the words let alone sense of them.

After doing way too much research, I know that you can mostly hear a soulmate voice before you meet them when they are feeling emotions of great strength. I've always heard is laughter, the most powerful laughter I've ever heard.

If you ask me why I always hear my soulmate when he is very happy, I can't tell you. I guess that I always just assumed that he was a nice guy- the kind that's always laughing and cracking funny jokes. Knowing who my soulmate is now, it seems too much to handle. The only words I ever heard my soulmate is _The Batman_ in scarcely a whisper. The two words plague my dreams as well as nightmares. Surely, this means that my soulmate lives in Gotham like me? When he says the batman, he sometimes refers to him as bats- a mixture of twisted happiness mingled with harsh, cold anger. It still scares me now even if I'm used to it.

At the time, I spent countless hours wondering whether or not he found it as hard to understand me as I did him. Did he know the obsession I had with him? The thought made me feel childish and awkward. If he concentrated very hard, would he know that most of the time I wondered who he was and where he was? Somehow, I doubted that. He seemed the time to not think enough to care about me.

My soulmate was a mystery to me then and he still is now. For some reason, I imagine him as devastatingly handsome in his own way with a smile that could turn a girls hurt into mush and- don't ask me why- he's very tall as well as lean. He'll be a total gentleman and won't beat me around like some people I know. His sense of humour will be so good that I laugh as much he does and for some reason ill always smile. When I imagine us together, I notice that I always seem brighter, livelier as if I have finally realised how to live.

For about the eight times that day, I had to pull myself out of the dreams of my soulmate, whoever the heel he was. While people don't gossip about their soulmates all the time at this age, they are still a hot topic that I am still lying about. While I hear his laugh, I can barely hear his voice and even that famous laugh is becoming less rare.

 **HA!**

Boom! That's it. I can barely breathe as I register the laught hat just seeped through my mind. Since I'm not with him and never have met him, I can hardly tell when his piercing laugh will shut through my mind. Whenever it does, my breathe becomes scarce and I can hardly concentrate on what's in front of me, even if it happens to be my very important exam people that I will need to help me pass my in criminal phycology.

For what feels like an hour, I'm off with the fairies, not caring about anyone who isn't laughing in my head. The daydreams seem so light, happy and distant from me and my life that I almost never want to meet him. No matter how much I feel like he's going to be perfect, there's no way he could be the man of my dreams.

After deciding the likelihood of me finishing my revision paper is about zilch, I grumpily get ready for work. Arkham Asylum is hardly the most glamourous place to work but I'm pretty sure that if I keep grinning and baring it than I'll be fine. To be honest, the amount of staff workers that have worked there that then get their own cell is a number that really shouldn't be there.

While I don't doubt that my sanity is perfectly intact, I am not so keen on the idea of having some of my work friends strangle me to death.

The drive to work is awful. The city of Gotham is never safe and you always get the uneasy feeling when you stop at a traffic light that someone is going to take the opportunity to shot you so that they can get a hand on your phone. With villains like Deadshot and Captain Boomerang hanging about on a daily basis, that's not as crazy as it may sound. When I finally get into the grey carpark to match the grey building, I can hardly breathe. Everything feels so different today. For some reason, my soulmate won't shut up. His laughter has caused me to nearly crash twice today on the way to work. Whenever I try and focus something like when to turn, his laughter pierces through my concentration like a knife. You'd think he was doing it on purpose. Anyway, I was happy that he was so happy. I'd idly wondered about screaming a big high in my mind and seeing if he saw it but I thought that I might look stupid so I didn't risk it.

Arkham Asylum is the kind of place that one knows that they are going to die in. Even I knew after a week of working there that if I don't work the hardest than the likelihood of me coming out of Arkham was slim. Most staff actually ended up as patients or dead so I was planning to work very hard on that revision paper but it was hard with someone laughing away in my head and what an attractive laugh hat was…

Harleen, the shock of someone saying my own name hat wasn't Dr Quinzel was pleasantly surprising, pull yourself together and stop thinking about him. This is not healthy. Not hearing him until you were twenty wasn't healthy but this is really unhealthy. If he can hear you, than he's going to think you're a stalker. Bad Harleen, bad.

My thoughts were becoming more and more deranged so I got out my care, grabbed my briefcase and slammed the door. Sometimes, my thoughts got so random that I could barely grasp the fact that I was indeed that mad man.

More irritated with myself than I usually was, I wasn't in a good mood as I slammed the metal doors of the Arkham reception shut with my key card. They could get as much funding from local playboy Bruce Wayne as they wanted. It didn't stop there being a breakout every other week and it didn't stop the staff feeling like they were about to be stabbed at any random time, even at home in the darkness of the still night.

It took about two seconds of my arrival that my superior, Joan Leland, came in and gave me a glare that could make the strongest of man weak at his knees. Considering the fact that I'm a coward, it didn't surprise anyone that I nearly fell over in shock. Leland hated me since she had never found her soulmate and she once happened to walk into one of my elaborate, fake stories about mine. She thinks that I have it all with love. Well, isn't she the brightest physiologist in the pack, even I knew that I was telling a bad lie and yet everyone else sucked it up like blood to a vampire.

After my scary moment with Leland, I briskly walked to the staff room. While I have my own office in the basement, I don't like the cramped room much and I prefer to socialise. When I get there, I notice that the whole staff are in the room, all looking like mad animals with their faces pressed up against the screen.

That's when I hear it.

It's the same laugh but this time it's as loud and clear as it's ever been. The quiet chuckling this morning can't even come close to comparing to it. All it takes is my hand to slip off the door handle for me to go crashing down, briefcase last, onto the floor. Despite everyone rushing to my aid, I don't mean to brag but my bubbly personality and big smile make very popular with the gloomy people of Arkham, I can barely focus on anything. The laughter is so loud that I'm nearly howling with laughter myself, my breathing is irregular and I don't even know if I'm actually doing it. Am I breathing? Breathe, Harleen, for the love of god, breathe.

The laughter sounds so happy and so triumphant that my eyes are blurring and all I can make out are pale blobs instead of my co-workers. They've sat me down on a sofa, assuming that my soulmate must be having a fight or something, and have turned back to the TV. What's going on? If this had happened any other day, than I wouldn't be able to hear the end of it. Blurrily, I try and focus on the TV. TV presenter and local heart throb Mikey Davies is nearly shouting with excitement. Apparently, their ace reporter, Beth Martins, has some brilliant lead and their going live with it now; I want to tell them both to shut up because the laughter is banging my head around as if I'm at a rock concert. My hands, I barely recognize, and shaking like leaves and my breathing, while I'm actually doing it, is hardly normal.

"Hello, I'm Beth Martin and let me just cut to the chase," the blonde haired reporter, I can barely recognize and burbling with an excitement so loud that it sounds like she's a cat on a chalk board, "As we all know, The Joker had been Gotham's most active criminal around this week and now he's finally doing something so bad that The Batman cant risk coming out of hiding to show us!"

I always felt sorry for The Batman. Other than the obvious fact that my soulmate cares about him far more than he does about me, the batman always seemed rather nice. He fights crime for nothing and if it wasn't for him than I'm sure Gotham- as well as me- wouldn't be alive at this moment in time. Still, he gets so much hate that I really wonder if he needs his own cell in here so he can address all his feelings. Even though my head is spinning, I let out a giggle at the thought of big, scary batman crying over the way that the civilians of Gotham are treating him.

Beth, who seems to have gotten more higher and louder if that's humanly possible, looks as if she's going to give a girlish scream of delight as the camera pans away from her, "There he is!"

My heart stops in my chest for a second. Even the constant creams of laughter in my head can't compete with the man that is standing on the roof top. His skin is so white that snow couldn't be whiter. His hair dyed the toxic colour of green ands been too slicked back to be recognized. It's his smile though. It's as if he couldn't care whether he over leans on the railing and falls to his doom. Despite the obvious danger he is, he looks at peace as if he's been sleeping or just remembering his best memory. He's single handily the most beautiful person that I have ever met and my eyes cant tear away from him. He's also the Joker, who would kill me without blinking a single eye.

 **Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha**

The voice in my head is so loud that I'm sure that I'm screaming for it to stop. I can't even breathe. My eyes won't leave the screen and if the volume wasn't on max than I think they would have sedated me by now. My screams aren't being heard even though they sound like pleas for help in my mind. Hoe can everyone ignore me? How can the Joker and The Batman still be living after the punches they are taking? How is my voice not shutting up?

My soulmate is starting to really annoy me. I watch, transfixed, as the Batman punches the joker so hard that I'm certain that his teeth are going to fall out. In fact, if you look really closely, I'm sure that a few do. Beth won't be quiet as shrilly screams at the camera man to zoom in more or straighten out his camera. While normally I would have hated her for being so rude, I can hardly focus on anything that isn't dressed like a bat or has vivid green hair.

That's when it happens.

The Joker starts to laugh.

 **Ha!**

Oh god please no!

 **Ha!**

I recognize that laugh.

 **Ha!**

It's like a metal flame.

 **Ha!**

Its official The Joker, who is the most evil man in Gotham or possibly the world. The Joker, who has murdered thousands and just planted bombs around the city for fun. The Joker, who would snap me neck and then drink my blood for a drink, is my soulmate…


	2. Chapter 2

**My Voice of Desire**

 **Chapter 2**

Did I mention that it was Valentine's Day?

The irony in this situation half makes me want to scream down the walls with laughter and half to run into a darkened alleyway and start crying until I flood the whole of Gotham. Even when I was twenty and over, the dreams of meeting my soulmate was always set on Valentine's Day. I mean it's the most romantic day of the year and the idea of a soulmate with white roses-pure and innocent like me- was so perfect that a girl, who had remember never met her soulmate, was powerless to not dream.

Then again, dreams rarely mean what they depict.

I had a burning desire for my soulmate. Sometimes, in the darkest heats of the hottest nights, I imagined him. Pretended that my fingers were his. Pretended that my lips were crushed against his. Pretended that I was in love. He was literally my voice of desire. The only problem was that he wasn't a voice. He was my laugh of desire. Doesn't sound very romantic, does it?

My feelings for him were desire because I had never met him. I desired his touch, his words and his love. Before I found out who he was, I had mistaken myself by thinking that my desire was love. How could you love a person that just laughed in your head at the most random and often embarrassing times?

That was why it felt like one big bad joke. Yes, I found out who my soulmate was- and on the most romantic day of the year as well! Yes, he was one of- if not the most- attractive men that I had ever laid eyes on but that wasn't enough! God damn it! It didn't seem fair that a girl like me- a virgin! - should end up with some criminal devil as a soulmate! This was not a soulmate, it was a curse.

Then, a voice niggled inside my fragile state of mind, why you are so immensely relieved that you met him and _why_ , dear Harleen, are you not terrified that he is most probably going to come to Arkham Asylum. I mean, hello, he's not exactly the sanest of characters, is he? My mind was burning me from the inside, poisoning me against everything I had ever believed in. This was most certainly it. I had decided to give up on love.

 _I hate you!_

Through all my minds chaos, through all the broken dreams and destroyed hopes, a small part of me- the part that had laughed and congratulated me when I broke Jimmy Fell nose in middle school because he said that I was just a dumb blonde who would end up a slut- hissed the words. They were, I'm quite certain, I hiss and yet I was certain that it was the strongest emotion that I had ever felt. A lot of people may have hated The Joker but I was the only person that had the possibility of making sure that it swept into his deranged mind. Oh, The Joker better watch out when he was in Arkham. Maybe, just maybe, I would poison his meds to make sure that he realised that Harleen Quinzel was not some girl to be toyed with. I was not some little voice in his mind. I was Harleen Quinzel and one day, any day, I was going to make sure that The Joker realised that he had ruined my idea of life. I'd ruin his idea of life if it killed me…

*(*)*

(OMG WE ARE SWITCHING TO JOKER'S VIEW!)

 _I hate you._

Ouch, he didn't really know why but the little voice in the back of his mind that hissed that bothered him greatly. The Bat was currently letting of a bit of steam by punching him in the face again and again. Did the stupid vigilante think that a good beating and week of bullshit therapy in Arkham Asylum was really going to scare him, the greatest jokes to ever be told, into being a good little boy and behaving?

Still, something scared him about Arkham. It wasn't the bullshit therapy where he'd be expected to discuss his traumatic childhood. It wasn't the cells, which were rumoured to be like a toilet hole. It wasn't even the possibility that there would be people in Arkham that he would have to prove he was better than. It was her. It was the feeling. It was the certainty that if he stepped foot in Arkham than he would be a changed man.

Most of the time, The Joker was plagued by voices. All of them, good or evil, were telling him to do things that he didn't want to do. They were all crazy and would probably kill him if they were real people and not just voices but they felt like family to him. Somehow, the voice of her kept him awake. She was just a giggle here or a sudden block of sadness there but he felt it. He didn't hear it but he felt it. The thought of feeling something other than this permanent cloud of bliss he was floating on scared him more than death.

As The Bat dragged him to Arkham, The Joker wonder, for the first time in history, if maybe everything he had worked for was just a waste of time.

*(*)*

The rest of my day was crap. After the Joker had been caught, we were informed by none other than Doctor Arkham himself to get on with therapy sessions and to make sure that the patients didn't know about the trouble in the outside world. Considering that a clown with slicked back green hair was about to be entering maximum security that day, I very much doubted the patients would be clueless for too long. Anyway, my mind had bigger fish to fry than just some therapeutic bullshit that didn't cure anyone.

THE JOKER IS YOUR SOULMATE.

The thought was terrifying. It scared me my core. The Joker was dangerous territory for anyone least of all the poor little doctor that was his soulmate. A deep, fierce part of me hungered for revenge. I'd wanted love, chocolate and shit with sugar on top as my love story not some broken maid that had been having sex thoughts and fantasies about the fucking Joker. My naïve mind felt like someone had stabbed it. I don't know if you have a soulmate but trust me, the little voice in your hair that you have been half in love even when you haven't heard it is not the kind of thing that you can just forget about. Id fallen for his laugh, his dark mutterings and his strange fascination for Batman! I'd never be able to marry anyone that wasn't my soulmate. Hell, I wouldn't even be able to have sex without someone who wasn't my soulmate. The law around this stuff was so fucked up and it had taken me this long to notice.

My mind was a blur of sadness and grief. It felt like a loving husband had just been snatched away from my arms. How could I, the sweet naïve Harleen, fall for a man that was as twisted as the Joker. How could I not have seen the signs? Was I doomed to become as hated and twisted as he was?

I didn't know and that was what scared me the most.

*(*)*

Doctor Arkham doesn't like anyone that isn't one of his top patients. For some reason that honestly scares me, Doctor Arkham really believes that he connects with the truly evil patients on a personal level. That is why he mentors and conducts all the therapy for them on his own. Most of us assumed that The Joker would just be his latest obsession; he was like a greedy child with chocolate for his patients. There was no way he share his chocolate or his patients even if we begged, pleaded and screamed. Dr Arkham was a greedy, fierce man and no one wanted to upset him when it came to pay check day.

This was why the whole staff was surprised when at our one hour of freedom- my hour lunch break that I usually used to go grab coffee somewhere- Doctor Arkham called a major staff meeting regarding some complicated words that I could remember. The staff room, which was normally a dark place with a couple of doctors cracking weak-hearted jokes, was now a danger zone. The chairs were all laid out in a perfect line. Doctor Arkham was standing at the front, puffing his chest in and out, looking rather smug. Was he really going to gloat about the fact that he got to share sessions with the craziest thing that most of us had ever seen- and remember we were living in Gotham- ?

The staffs were quick to get into the seats and I was right at the end. This made me feel marginally better about situation since it was unlikely that Doctor Arkham was about to wave his finger in my face like he did with us when he was getting all heated up about something. All of the staff- I'm ashamed to admit that I have to count myself with that- looked as if we were standing in front of Adolf Hitler and we were Jewish. Instead of wondering why he staff look terrified of him, Doctor Arkham looked rather full of himself.

Doctor Arkham didn't look like much. His hair was as black as coal and looked as if he had put grease paint in it while his eyes were the lightest shade of green and reminded me of my sick when I was a child. He was a narrow man with a pointed face and yet he had quite a belly on him. I was just glad that he had found his soulmate- poor woman- and didn't look at the female staff members as if they were his desert.

"So," Doctor Arkham began without the slightest of hesitation in his voice, "I'm here to discuss our new patient. The Joker had already spoken to me and he had assured me that his past is very traumatic, which is why he acts the way he does. This means that he would like to pick out his therapist. That's why, hand-cuffed and closely guarded, he will step in and ask you a few questions until he thinks that he is comfortable with you. If none of you match up to his expectations, than I will obviously be taken his therapy sessions. I'd ask you for questions but I doubt that any of you are so stupid to not understand what I just said. Now, please, don't do anything to upset the man when he comes in."  
Doctor Arkham sounded like he was pleading with us when we fell into a stunned silence. The Joker was going to come in here and be asking us questions! He could have ten thousands guns being pointed at him and it wouldn't make any of us feel any safer. The terror radiating of the walls was terrifying and it felt like he was some god that we were all in awe of.

That was probably not too far of the truth.

Joan Leland, who always looms confident and bitchy, was about to be sick by the green tinge in her face. She looked as if The Joker had killed her sister, which he might have actually. All of us, except Doctor Arkham, looked as if we were being sent to our deaths. To put it blunt, we all thought the unlucky sod that was going to be his therapist wasn't going to make it out of Arkham without a body bag.

Above everyone else, I felt the most scared. Through our connection, I could hear him giving slowly, metallic chuckles of twisted joy. Even though I knew that it was probably going to end up with someone, the chuckles sounded so dark and attractive. If he was a pool, I would be tempted to dive right in…

The door opened as slowly as it would in a horror film. The two guards that were standing there seemed incompetent and nervous. The slow, awful sounds of dragging chains made me want to cup my hands over my ears or better yet run for my life. Everyone was poised, ready to run at a hesitations notice. The man in this room had killed for a game with Batman. The terror one felt in this situation couldn't be described. My heart was in my throat and yet I felt an eerie sense of safety. By the way he was coming; I'd be the last person to inspect. Surely, he'd have found someone else more worthy to die.

Die.

There was something so satisfying about the word die. When my mother died, I felt a sense of joy that wasn't right and couldn't be explained. When my father left me to die, even if it wasn't physical, I felt a sense of freedom. I could have been physically abandoned by him and died the next day and yet I would regret the day of freedom. Even with the shithole of an excuse that I call a life, the words 'die' and 'death; make me feel at ease. Someday, I hope to die. My thoughts are getting increasingly dark so I decide to shut my mind off.

Then, he comes into view. At the precise moment that my mind is able to come to a jolty halt, it speeds up again into something to fast to register. He's as god-like as he was on TV, if not more. His hair, still slicked back, looks so evergreen and perfect that I want to touch it. The pale skin and tattoos don't make that feeling go away. Even with a straight-jacket on as well as a pair of cuffs around his feet, he looks sinister and dangerous, too perfect for this world. Whether I love the man who laughs in my head or not, he looks way too hot not ignite.

Can he hear my thoughts?

I only think about my betraying thoughts and his connection to him as I feel his laugh- which has been plaguing me all day too loudly, fall to an abrupt silence. Even when he wasn't laughing out loud, he was laughing in my head and now he's silent. I try, desperately, to look for a connection to our minds (What is he thinking?) but I cant find anything. While I normally don't feel anything, this silence is alien as if he's too busy searching my thoughts to even is thinking himself.

For the first time since my mother dies, I feel tears prick my eyes at the frustration hat I am feeling right now. The temptation to just start screaming and never stop or punch a wall as hard as I can is over-whelming and I wonder if maybe he and I should trade positions. I'm obviously insane and he seems so smart that he could be a doctor.

As if my thoughts can't be off the rails enough, he starts moving down the line. If he is following any pattern, than I can't crack it. On some people, he just walks past them. Others he asks endless questions and some he just stares at. The people he walks past slump back in their chairs and look far too happy for me to feel it with them. The ones he stares at looks like he has put a fairy-tale curse on them while the ones he asks questions too look on the edge. It's taking too quickly.

Even though it feels like each second is a millennium (well not that long but longer than it should really be), I know that it is going too quickly. It feels like he's stalling, waiting for a certain someone to jump up. Could he want me? Can he feel me? Is he searching for me? My heartbeat won't be quiet, though I'm desperate for it to. This is the kind of man that can smell fear and will use it against you.

While thousands of random thoughts are flying over my eyes like stars over a galaxy, I can barely breathe when he gets to me. NO! This man obviously doesn't want Doctor Arkham so is he looking for me? He has more reason to want me than anyone else. Hello! I'm a loose end. He might not know how little information he gives me so he could want to kill me. Or maybe, a comforting voice reasons, he'll see everyone before. Or, at the moment this voice is the only thing keeping me sane, he just wants to make the person feel relief before he points them out.

He doesn't want me. He might want me. Hell, come on he wants me. He's wants to kill me. He wants to torture me. He wants to ruin me.

"Uh, hello?" Oh my god, I swear that I sound like a teenage girl. The voice is the metallic flame of the laugh. He's talking to me. He's sounds annoyed.

He's looking at me.

I've never seen his eyes before and let me say that they are definitely his bets feature. Something is so innocent and light about them. A beaked of sunlight over hundreds of nasty black eyes. Other than that beam of light, everything is black. Evil Black. Murderous Black. The kind of black that will get little Harleen Quinzel killed. Oh god. Oh god!

"Hi!"

Seriously, I'm a grown up woman. An intelligent woman that is a doctor. I work with the kind of people that graphically describe how they want to murder me and yet I'm going insane of a random criminal saying hello.

Well, a spiteful voice hisses in my ear, he's your soulmate. Not exactly a stranger, is he precious?

"You look scared. Are you scared of me?" Well, am I'm scared of soulmates that threaten to burn down the city and then rebuild it?

What's the point in lying? My head feels so surreal and honest when he's standing there. The explosions before seem to have just stopped. It feels as if I've taken drugs or something. Can you get high on a soulmate because I'm pretty sure that he may be some kind of drug? The feeling of hate, desire and craziness that ne gives me without meeting him is electric and yet now it is calm. He's not a pool, he's the sea and I want to float in it forever. Maybe I'm drowning in his currents without realising? Why is everything peaceful?

"Absolutely petrified of you."

The only good thing I can think about my answer is that it's honest. His eyes are locked on mine and that little spark of light is dancing in them, as if they are tangoing across his pupils. A girl could have gotten lost in those eyes when he was normal. Hell, I'm a girl- a woman really- and I'm getting lost in those eyes. This is just the soulmate thing talking Harleen, I remind myself because my heart is no longer beating fast. It's beating too slowly. My eyes feel like they're going to close on his gorgeous ones and my brain has just stopped working. Has he somehow killed me by looking at me?

"Oh, I like her." His voice is filled with amusement and with my mind not working I can barely understand what he is saying. Everything feels to be closing in on me and my breathing is dying slowly.

"Don't."  
"What?"

"Please don't pick me as your therapists. I don't want to die yet. I can't join her yet. Please." Okay, my minds working now and I'm certainly gasping. I've just gotten lost in the sea and now come up for air. This is too much. I'm pretty sure I'm crying. My mind is on fire and I can't tell if he feels anything. Does he feel anything? Will I know when he's going to kill me?

"I want her."

Doctor Arkham is trying to change his mind but it won't be budged. I'm to be his therapist or he's not talking.

Despite the danger in this situation my mind can only think of one question: does he know that I am his soulmate?

On the way out, he stops at the door and everyone stops giving me sympathetic looks to glance at him. The answer to my mind question is answered in one blunt…

"Yes." 


End file.
